The Danger Inside
by faketongue
Summary: One Shot: Vince, a guard in Arkham Asylum, has a little conversation with Joker about the danger inside. Oh, I don't own J., but Vince is mine.


**A/N: Just a one shot. It wanted to be written, so I did it. And now it wants to be read.**

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**The Danger Inside**

Everytime I passed his cell, he came up with another terrifying story about how he got those scars. I think, few days ago or something, I stopped listening to him. He made no sense. At all. So I simply refused to understand him any longer.

I've worked with criminal minds before, so I was used to their tactics and their ways of talking themselves out of punishment. Although most of them deserved some little extra action during the shifts of the watchmen, I never took part in any of those so called _lessons_. I didn't need to make myself feel better with the torture of inmates. Not my style. Justitia would take care of them, soon enough. The world would always find a way to take out unpleasent creations.

I never believed in revenge. It made no sense to me. In fact, lots of things didn't in Arkham Asylum. And he was one of them.

During today's shift handover, when I was walking past his cell once more, he asked to me to stop and listen to him. I refused, as always, and kept walking. He began to laugh and his manic voice sent shivers down my spine.

_What the hell do you want, freak? Why can't you just leave me alone?_

I would never ask him. I couldn't. Maybe I was too much of a wimp to work in a mental institute for criminals, I'd never know, just like I would never ask him why he thought of life as a joke.

"Hey Vince! Is that guy bothering you again?" one of my colleagues asked, laughing.

"Maybe old Clown-boy gotta crush on Vinny." another one responded.

If I hated anyone in Arkham, it would be my co-workers, not the mass murderers or psychopaths. At least _they_ had no fear of expressing their real selfs. They were normal compared to the rest of the world. They _forced_ the people to see their inner longings. They were true. Unlike my dear friends here.

Unlike Joker.

I ignored the mocking voices of the two guys and went straight back to _his_ cell. He had been waiting for me, his face was resting upon the bullet-proof glass, his eyes observing every inch of my body. I began to feel a little uneasy.

"What the hell do you want?"

"A little bit sympathy." he replied, grinning.

"And why should anyone have sympathy with you, freak?"

I have to admit, I felt rather furious at that point. He made me give in to his awful games. But now I couldn't turn around and walk away. Now I was a part of his world. For real. And fear overshadowed the anger.

"I'm lonely."

There was still a grin on his deformed face. His eyes were dark. Lifeless. Nothing like a devil's eyes should look like. I was no psychiatrist but I could tell that he actually felt lonely. The jokes had begun to tire him, somehow. But the moment I stepped into his world, he seemed more vivid than ever.

_I'm nothing but a toy._ The thought struck me like a lightening in a pitch black night. _Nothing but a toy_. I wanted to get away from this cell but I couldn't move.

"You're lonely, too, aren'tcha?"

"What makes you think I'm lonely, freak?"

His sparkling eyes met mine. "I know a joke when I see one."

Fury took over my mind again. This time, it hit me hard. "You're messing with the wrong people, clown." I said, grinding my teeth.

"Vince, get away from him!" my co-workers yelled, but I couldn't listen to them.

"Yeah, Vinny, get away from me." he repeated, with a high-pitched voice, then starting to laugh like a maniac.

My fist met the bullet-proof glass and for the first time during our conversation, he backed off.

"I'm no danger to you, Vinny-boy. The danger is inside of you." he said, stroking back his green and greasy hair. "Now... wanna know how I got these scars?"

"No." I said, walking away, past my colleagues who stared at me like dimwitted dropouts.

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His laughter followed me on my way home. To a flat that didn't flatter me. In a skin that didn't fit me. To a life that wasn't worth living. As I walked by several shops and bars, I watched the people who passed me. They seemed to be quite normal, so did I. They were talking about normal things, just as everyone. Nothing special. Nothing remarkable.

_His grin_...

Normal people doing normal things.

_The danger is inside of you._

They wouldn't act on their secrets thoughts which they never shared with anyone but their mirror reflections. Never. They wouldn't take out a gun and start firing. Never. They wouldn't murder because they _could_. Never.

_Wanna know how I got those scars?_

"It doesn't matter."

_No? Why not?_ My inner voice seemed to be his.

"Because it wouldn't make any difference."

_How?_

I noticed that people were looking at me, like I was some kind of a freak, but I kept talking to myself.

"People wouldn't fear you more - or less - , if they knew the truth. Or any of your truths. You are what you are. You represent what they fear."

_And what is that, Vinny-boy?_

"Just a playful little dog. Unlogical. Without reason. You are what they have lost."

_Instinct._

"Instinct. The danger inside." The voice seemed to be pleased.

As I entered my flat, a smile spread across my face. After all, why would a man without any sorrows - living because he's able to live, eating because he's able to eat and killing because he is able to kill...

Why would a man without sorrows be serious?

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End file.
